Hurt Boys Collection
by MarenMary93
Summary: Different one shots and drabbles of the boys either getting or being hurt. You can jump from chapter to chapter here, they are in no particular order... Hurt!Sam, Hurt!Dean... Rated T due to language and some glimpses of verbal and physical abuse. Please Read and Review
1. Dean breaks his wrist

"Hey, man! You awake?!" Sam yelled as he threw himself to his knees by his brother. His heart had skipped a few beats as he saw Dean take a fall out a second story window.

"DON'T. TOUCH. ME." Dean croaked out as he rolled over to lay on his back, carefully cradling his right arm against his chest. The pain made his vision blurry, even though he hadn't hit his head.

"How bad is it?" Sam asked as he disobeyed the order Dean had given him and patted Dean down to check for other external injuries, carefully avoiding his brother's injured arm. It seemed like Dean didn't even notice that he was being touched. He just curled into something that resembled the fetal position, and stayed there. Whimpering and grunting in pain every now and then.

The pain mostly short circuit all of Dean's normal behavior, one white-hot lightning bolt at the time.

"Is it broken?" Sam soon followed up after Dean didn't answer to his first question.

"FUCK! YEAH IT'S BROKEN!" Dean growled back after a few moments of gasping for air. Sam placed a hand on Dean's back and helped his brother to sit up.

"Are you…"

"YEAH! I both HEARD and FELT it break!" Dean snapped back even before Sam had the chance to finish the question.  
"Why do you even bother asking that question!?"


	2. Both the boys get shot

**Okey, new oneshot. **

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The sharp stinging sound of a gun rang through the air as Dean spun around to watch his little brother absorb the momentum of the bullet. It threw Sam off balance and sent him crashing to the pavement beneath him.

Dean could see the heat of Sam's blood disturb the crisp ice-cold January air, making it look like smoke.

He was sure he had lost his brother, until Sam grunted in pain and lifted his head a few seconds later. Dean who was already on his knees by his brother's side grinned as he realized that Sam wasn't dead already.

"You alive?" Dean asked out of pure reflexes.

"Yeah, but my leg hurts!" Sam half growled back at his older brother, whom he thought was waaaay to chipper for this situation.

An other shot was fired, it nicked Dean in the shoulder. He was sure it had only grazed him, but he lifted his hand up in front of himself to check whether he was able to use it properly. It worked as expected, sore and weaker, but it did as he commanded it to. He quickly figured that he wouldn't be able to carry Sam out of there alone though…

"Man, Demons I get…" he whispered to himself and suddenly remembered that maybe the act of playing dead would help them.

"Sammy, can you manage to play dead when they get here?" Dean asked in a hurry as he smeared his own blood more across his chest.

Sam caught the drift and smeared his own blood out more, to make it look more dramatic. To make it look like he had bled more than he actually had. He then laid back into the awkward position he'd been laying in. One bloody hand stretched out to the wound, almost touching it. The other one sprawled across his chest the way it would lay if he'd lost consciousness. Then the last touch to the act, not to breathe when the crooks got over there.

Dean managed to get half the front of his T-shirt soaked, laid down on his good side, and held his gun hidden under his highest leg, ready to act if the people that shot them wouldn't believe their show.

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**It would mean a lot to me to know what you think of this**


	3. Dean ACL, abusive John warning

**New chapter!**

**This contains verbally (and physically) abusive!John, just to warn those who might be offended...**

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The snow was falling all around. It was a beautiful scenery… Dean hissed as he pulled himself up to his elbows, both his ribs and his left leg protesting every motion he even thought to make. He knew from the start that it would be a bad idea to climb the steep wall of rocks back to the trail. But hey, like everything else it had to be tried. The plan itself had been great enough, it was only 12 feet… He had climbed higher hills before he'd started in first grade…

But yet…

Here he was, lying on the cold ground. Yup, it would probably have been wiser to wait. Either for his dad to come by, or the morning when it was lighter. His own flashlight had been broken in the first fall down the hill…

The fourteen-year-old boy slumped back into his previous position lying flat on his back, looking up as the sky darkened more and more.

Once again the air was filled by the familiar sound of a gun being fired, but this time it was followed by a growl that would have made any normal person shit their pants. Dean reckoned that his dad had hit the werewolf properly this time.

"DEAN! WHERE ARE YOU?" his father's voice rung through the air about five minutes later. They usually met up with each other soon after they could assume that the other one had killed the monster they were hunting.

Dean drew his breath to yell back, but the pain made him change his mind quite fast. He thought of what options he had to guide his father to him. Yelling, screaming and all other activities that either meant movement to his leg, or excessive use of his lungs were out of the options. He then decided that to fire a shot into the tree trunk nearby would be the best and safest option available.

He pulled up his gun and fired.

"DEAN! IS THAT YOU?"

He fired another shot into the trunk to confirm. Just like the regular knock once for yes, twice for no…

"YOU ALL RIGHT?" his father sounded nervous.

Dumb question, Dean thought to himself. If he was all right, he would have answered his father by shouting.

Two shots…

"Is it bad?" This time his father was close enough not to shout. Dean could see his father's frame as he had stopped at the top of the small hill.

"No, just painful!" Dean croaked out, painfully aware of his ribs protesting just the simplest thin as breathing.  
"Well, umm… I think I bruised some ribs badly… And I think I might have broken my leg…" Dean confessed after shifting position just the slightest had made him gasp for air.

"I'll get some rope from the car… I'll be back soon!" his father said as he turned and headed for where they had parked the car.

_Weeks later_

"DAAAAEEEAN" it was his father…

Dean had known even before the door had been opened that his father was nowhere near sober. Dean was a little surprised that John actually had made it home on his own. I mean he was wasted!

"Shhh… Dad. I just put Sammy to bed." He really hoped that his dad would be quiet and not wake Sammy up. He didn't like the thought of his 10-year-old baby brother seeing their dad like this, drunk out of his wits!

It had happened more often lately… Especially after Dean screwed up a few weeks ago, landing himself on crutches for at least six weeks, maybe eight the doctor had said. Stupid fucking knee! It made him incapable of way too many things. Like hunting. Hunting with a torn ACL was just simply out of the question.

"DEAN, I have to t-te-t-tell you something ssaaan!" John said heading towards Dean.

"You!" he said, pointing his index finger at Dean "are a GOD DAMN DISGRACE!" He then barked at Dean, using his marine authority voice at all it's capacity.

Dean felt the words sting. No at second thought, they didn't sting, they tore in him like old worn out knives. Cutting, chopping and grinding their way through Dean's soul.

_An hour of yelling and a few punches later Dean limped silently into _  
_his and Sam's bedroom._

"Dad drunk?" a silent voice came from the bed by the closet, and Dean could swear that he hated his dad right now. One day, when he was grown up, he was going to confront his dad. BIG TIME. about what kind of father he had been to them growing up. But still, he knew that dad would just shoot a glare at him and tell him to grow some balls and get over it!

"Just a little" Dean said lowering himself carefully onto the bed, trying not to justle his knee nor his now swollen shoulder. He hated it when dad got drunk.

"Did he hurt you?" his little brother asked with a concerned voice. "I heard you cried out a couple of times"

"No, not really" Dean lied. He hated when dad got drunk, because he became mean. And he couldn't protect Sam from what he heard. But Dean guessed that he was kind of lucky. If his dad accidentaly managed to hurt him badly, like just 5 minutes ago when his shoulder slipped out, he mostly knew how to mend Dean back together...

I'm a failure, it's _my_ _fault_ Dad gets drunk...  
He wouldn't get drunk as often if it weren't for me...  
_I AM A DISGRACE!_  
Dad's a _good_ dad... Dean thought...

He just get's drunk _a little too often_...

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	4. Scratches

**New one... This is called "scratches", cause that's what it is to them.**

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"Sammy! Stop kidding around, and get in the damn car!" This was absolutely not the first time Dean had gone out to find his kid brother, not the last one either by the looks of it.  
"No Dean! I'm not going back there, and you know it! Dad's getting home today, and I'm not gonna be there for him to yell at!" his thirteen year old brother replied, signaling with his hands to make it even clearer. There was no way in hell that Sam was going to go back there, only to do research and be yelled at. No way!

"C'mon Sammy! It ain't that bad!" Dean tried as he shifted his weight, ready to make a jump for Sam. But of course his brother noticed the slight movement and then and there he began sprinting.

Dean easily jumped over the hood of the 'old excuse of an pick-up truck' their dad had bought, the one Dean was stuck with this month, since John had to use the Impala since we was going to act as a FBI or something, and not a plumber or carpenter or something like that… It was all right enough… This wasn't exactly the town where teenagers drove around in muscle cars either…

As you might think, the fights Sam and Dean had often got real violent, after all, they had the practice… Long stretches of running and fighting they both were exhausted and beaten up… Quite frankly neither of them could have kept on much further…

They agreed that they would both return to the motel, as they limped back to the pick-up. Black-eyes, cuts and scrapes, not to mention a twisted ankle or something like that. Dean looked over at his kid brother. Bet that cut deserves a few stitches, he thought for himself…

"Good thing dad ain't home, I bet the CPS would have loved a chat with him…" Dean stated after a long silence. "Good thing the school knows he's on a 'business trip'" Sammy declared after he had thought it through. He went silent a brief moment as he looked at his older brother, "Looks like you could use a couple of crutches... And some stitches…" he then said as he moved closer to support Dean.  
"Nah… I'm fine." Dean said, contemplating whether or not his ankle was broken or just in other people's dictionary 'suverly sprained'. He could move it, he could put his weight on it, "just scratches"

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**Looks like I'm on a roll...**

Tell me what you think, good or bad...  
You have some advises I would be happy to consider them!


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